It was my first view of the 37-foot high Green Monster. It was 1975, before interleague play, and I had never set foot in Fenway until that breath-taking moment.
I was there to cover the 1975 World Series, Cincinnati Reds versus the Boston Red Sox.
It had been 35 years since the Reds won a World Series — 1940 over the Detroit Tigers. They lost to the New York Yankees in 1962, lost to the Baltimore Orioles in 1970, lost to the Oakland Athletics in 1972.
And in 1973 they lost a brawl-filled National League Championship Series to the New York Mets.
It was beginning to look as if The Big Red Machine and The Great Eight weren’t built for post-season play, a regular-season juggernaut but post-season junk.
The 1975 Reds shed that label like a caterpillar shedding its skin. In one of the all-time best World Series, the Reds won it, four games to three.
And once again, like the Berlin song in Top Gun ‘Take My Breath Away,’ it took my breath away and from the cramped Fenway Park press box, my seat next to a pillar, I wrote the story with trembling fingers.
Before that, though, Game 6 was one of the most iconic, most remembered World Series games ever played.
The Reds led the series three games to two, needing one victory to take home the trophy.
It appeared the Reds had it won, leading 6-3 in the eighth inning and I began typing away in the press box atop the dark green stands behind home plate.
Credit: Ron Alvey
Credit: Ron Alvey
The Red Sox had two on and two outs in the eighth inning with Bernie Carbo at the plate against Rawly Jackson Eastwick III, an accomplished artist and student of Andrew Wyeth and an outstanding relief pitcher.
Carbo was originally with the Reds, drafted No. 1 in 1965, one spot ahead of Johnny Bench. On a 2-and-2 pitch, one strike from escaping, Eastwick’s fastball was reversed over the center field wall by Carbo, tying the game, 6-6.
I tore the paper out of my typewriter, disgustingly ripping it into small pieces and dropped it into a nearby wastebasket.
And the game droned on at 6-6 through the ninth, 10th and 11th. At one point, when he was batting, Pete Rose turned to catcher Carlton Fisk and said, “Isn’t this a great game?”
Twice earlier in the game the Reds had intentionally walked Fisk. But when the bottom of the 12th arrived, Fisk was leading off against Pat Darcy, the Reds’ eighth pitcher of the night. Then came one of baseball’s most famous images. On a 1-and-0 pitch, Fisk hit a sky-scraping fly ball down the left field line toward the foul pole above the 37-foot high wall.
As left fielder George Foster drifted back, Fisk was a few feet from home plate, jumping up and down and flailing his arms toward fair territory, imploring the ball to stay fair.
It did. It struck the foul pole four hours and one minute into a World Series Classic. The Red Sox won, 7-6, tying the World Series at three wins apiece and sending it to a Game 7.
Credit: AP
Credit: AP
In the press box, I inserted some Western Union copy paper into my green portable Olivetti typewriter and began pounding out the story.
Because of that game, many non-Reds fans believe the Red Sox won that World Series. Not so, the Reds came back to win it in Game 7.
Even before Game 6, there were other eventful happenings. After Game 5, it began to rain in Boston, and rain and rain and rain.
There was a three-day stoppage, 72 hours between Game 5 and Game 6. So manager Sparky Anderson wanted to keep the team sharp.
The Reds found out that Tufts University had a large indoor facility suited for a workout. The players and Sparky, in full game uniforms, boarded a charter bus and Sparky told the driver, “Tufts University in Medford.”
Without a word, the driver headed out. And got lost. Couldn’t find Tufts in those days before GPS and Waze. So Anderson had him stop at a gas station and the Reds manager, wearing uniform No. 10, approached the startled attendant.
“My good friend, I’m sure you’ve been asked this question many times before, but can you direct us to Tufts University?” said Anderson.
Yes, he could.
After the Game 6 dramatics, the Reds fell behind in Game 7, 3-0, in the third inning.
In the dugout, Anderson paced and fretted. Catcher Johnny Bench told him, “Relax, Sparky, stay out of the way and we’ll win this for you.”
The Boston pitcher was Bill ‘Spaceman’ Lee, a guy who not only marched to the beat of a different drummer, he was the drummer. He told writers he sprinkled marijuana on his breakfast cereal.
Early in the game, Lee threw a lob pitch to Tony Perez, an eephus pitch Lee called, “My Leephus pitch.” Perez popped it up, but back in the dugout he told teammates, “If he throws that to me again, I’m going to hit it over the Green Monster onto the Massachusetts Turnpike.”
Perez came to bat in the sixth inning with a runner on. Lee threw the Leephus and Perez crushed it onto the Massachusetts Turnpike, cutting Boston’s lead to 3-2.
Former Reds manager Dave Bristol always said, “If there is a way to win a game, Tony Perez will find it.”
Perez found a way. He struck again in the seventh with Pete Rose on base. He singled Rose home to tie it, 3-3.
It was still tied, 3-3, in the ninth when Ken Griffey walked to open the inning. A sacrifice and a ground ball placed him on third and Joe Morgan singled up the middle for a 4-3 lead.
Springfield native Will McEnaney pitched a 1-2-3 ninth and the ’75 Reds were World Series champions.
In Boston, they called it the continuation of ‘The Curse of the Bambino,’ but it really was the determination of The Great Eight.
As former Dodgers manager Tommy Lasorda once put it, “The best thing about baseball is winning a World Series. The second best thing is losing a World Series.”
This time the Reds didn’t lose.
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